


Cause I Like High Chances That I Might Lose

by Jennsepticeye



Series: What's Up Danger [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Identity Reveal, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Secret Identity, Vague depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennsepticeye/pseuds/Jennsepticeye
Summary: This is a rewrite of my previous work "I'm Always Gonna Answer When You Call My Phone"“Just wanted to let you know that a couple guys tried to rob the bodega on 65th. They’re webbed to a light pole across the street. One of them had a gun but it wasn’t loaded. And I definitely didn’t learn that the hard way.” He says, about as convincing as a kid his age can be, which is to say, not at all convincing.Davis frowns. “Someone shot at you?”“I mean, yeah? He thought it was loaded and then started yelling at his buddies because apparently loading it wasn’t his responsibility, so-”
Relationships: Jefferson Davis & Miles Morales
Series: What's Up Danger [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020067
Comments: 10
Kudos: 206





	Cause I Like High Chances That I Might Lose

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm Always Gonna Answer When You Call My Phone" Is actually my most kudo'd work here on AO3, but i rewatched the movie last night and realized that I hadn't reread it in a while, and man was I not impressed. So over the course of maybe 8 hours, I wrote this.
> 
> I hope you guys like it as much as the last one. I have a soft spot for the trope of Jefferson's dad instincts kicking in before he even knows Spider-Man is Miles

Davis has conflicting feelings about the new Spider-Man. On one hand, vigilantism is a crime and always will be. Davis is a police officer and legally he should arrest the kid. On the other hand, the PDNY is not at all equipped to handle villains like Norman Osborne or Tombstone. So if Spider-Man does all the work and leaves people like his on the doorstep, who is he to complain? But there’s not just two sides, it’s a scale with three sides. Davis is a dad, and as a dad, he’s concerned and downright furious.

He doesn’t put two and two together at first. So much happens in such a short time. The call to the Parker residence in Queens, Aaron dying, the new dollar-store Spider-Man, Miles disappearing out of nowhere and never explaining. Davis is just one man, and New York never did know how to do “normal.” Then, as the city starts shaking there’s a report of a Spider-Man dressed in black, jumping off the Empire State building and swinging towards Brooklyn. 

Davis follows, because the city is shaking, and his radio isn’t working properly, but he’s still a police officer and people are in danger.

What he finds is the technicolor fever dream that is the supercollider underneath Fisk Tower.

Wilson Fisk is an absolute mountain of a man, who would make powerlifters look normal in comparison. But out on the sideways skyscrapers and multi-verse soup, the new Spider-Man looks so damn small. And he looks even smaller when Fisk brings his massive fists down with a sickening  _ crack  _ and stands gloating over Spider-Man’s still form.

_ God, is he dead? _

“Get up Spider-Man.” He doesn’t mean to say it, doesn’t even think about it, and it’s not like the kid can hear him.

“Get up Spider-Man!” He says again, yelling this time.  _ Loud _ . Loud enough that the bold white lenses of the mask stutter open, and against all odds, he  _ wins.  _ Davis doesn’t like vigilantes, but Spider-Man did just prevent a black hole from opening under Brooklyn, so he’ll make a small exception.

And then the super collider explodes, and when Davis recovers Spider-Man is gone, leaving nothing but a thin web behind.

~*~

Spider-Man’s voice is… strange, to say the least. He talks like his mouth is full of peanut butter, with poor annunciation and pitched far too low to be natural. He’s intentionally lowering his voice and that isn’t all.

He hugs Davis. He wraps his scrawny little spandex clad arms around Davis and  _ hugs him.  _ Davis can’t help but freeze. There’s no protocol for being hugged out of nowhere by a masked vigilante with freaky spider powers. It’s weird, but just as soon as it comes, it goes. Spider-Man steps back, shoulders hunched like he regrets his actions.

“Officer, I love you.” He says, in that same fake voice, giving a cheeky little salute.

Davis smiles, and then it hits him. “Wait, what?”

Spider-Man drops the fake voice, taking a few more steps back. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, preparing to take off.

“Look behind you! Adios!” And then he’s gone, flinging himself into the sky with an excited shout.

The entire interaction was just  _ strange. _ Who just hugs someone they don’t know? Who the hell says “I love you” to a complete stranger? But on top of that, the hug made Davis realize just how  _ small  _ the new Spider-Man is. His arms barely reached around his torso, and his head only reached Davis’s chest.

And then it clicks. The small stature, the fake voice, the hug, his behavior as a whole. The new Spider-Man is a child, and actual child probably no older than sixteen if he had to guess. And that realization sets off all sorts of alarms in the dad part of Davis’s mind.  _ Who the hell is letting their kid fight crime in spandex? Do his parents know? Is anyone looking out for this kid? _

Davis sighs as he watches his coworkers load Wilson Fisk into an armored truck, and Dr. Octavius into another. Just another Tuesday in New York City.

~*~

When Peter Parker was still Spider-Man, he wasn’t very close with police. He’d exchange banter occasionally, maybe offer a flashdrive of evidence, or, more often than not, get a gun pointed at his face. As Spider-Man, Parker only interacted with the police when he had to. 

The new Spider-Man is completely different. He exchanges banter, as all heroes seem to do, but he  _ endears  _ himself to the PDNY officers. He sticks around when he can, filling out a police report for whatever crime he had “stopped,” and strangest of all, he seems to seek out Davis specifically. Sometimes it’s business, but a lot of the time they just  _ talk.  _ Sometimes they’re not even at a crime scene.

The dad part of Davis’s brain, of course, jumps to the worst possible conclusion. Does Spider-Man have  _ anyone?  _ Does he have anyone to ask for advice or to look after him like a dad is supposed to? It certainly doesn’t look that way.

“Hey! Officer Davis!”  _ Speak of the Devil.  _ The kid touches down on the roof of his cruiser, legs hanging over the side. Thankfully, he’s given up on the fake voice, though Davis suspects there might be some sort of modulator in the mask since his voice isn’t  _ quite  _ normal.

Despite himself, Davis smiles at the kid. “Spidey.”

“Just wanted to let you know that a couple guys tried to rob the bodega on 65th. They’re webbed to a light pole across the street. One of them had a gun but it wasn’t loaded. And I definitely didn’t learn that the hard way.” He says, about as convincing as a kid his age can be, which is to say, not at all convincing.

Davis frowns. “Someone shot at you?”

“I mean, yeah? He thought it was loaded and then started yelling at his buddies because apparently loading it wasn’t his responsibility, so-”

“Are you crazy? You could have been killed, kid! You had no idea if it was loaded or not!”

Spider-Man throws his hands up, trying to backtrack “I would have been fine-”

“Like hell-”

“- my spider-sense would have warned me if it was dan-”

“It’s not your job, Spidey. You’re a kid. You’re supposed to call the police and let them handle it!” He says, because someone needs to make this kid see some sense, any sense.

“They weren’t there yet, and someone was in danger. I had to-”

“You’re not even properly trained-”

“You think I don’t know that?” Spider-Man yells, frustrated. “I know I’m not as good as Peter was-”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Peter was supposed to  _ teach me  _ how to do this, how to be Spider-Man. Instead I watched him get killed in front of me. All I got was a two day crash-course from his hobo doppelganger and an actual pig! I’m trying to be what this city needs, but I don’t know how!”

Jefferson sighs, torn between trying to keep the kid safe, or keeping his spirits high. The kid is clearly putting himself under a lot of pressure and it’s not fair to him. “You can’t expect to do this alone. Parker had his Aunt and his wife, but you’re just a kid-”

“Am not!” Spider-Man shoots back, like a kid.

“You’re just a kid.” Davis says again. “And I sincerely doubt your parents know you’re out here doing all this.”

“I’m not alone.” He says petulantly. “I have people.”

“Then let them in. Ask them for help. It doesn’t make you any less of a hero.”

Spider-Man sighs. “Fine, but if my molecules glitch out and I meet my end in a parallel universe, I’m blaming you.”

And then he disappears before Davis can protest. The whole invisibility thing is going to get really annoying.

~*~

After their little talk, Spider-Man is scarce for a few days, hopefully following Davis’s advice and leaning on his “people.” Maybe those other Spider-People from Queens a couple months back.

When he comes back, he seems better. He swings around smoother and more confident than before, but also, he’s somehow even more friendly and social than he was before, bantering with officers and taking selfies with tourists. He really is just a good kid under a lot of pressure.

Unfortunately, nothing good seems to last in NYC.

Subconsciously, and maybe even consciously, Davis knows that the new Spider-Man is the same one from the alleyway. Despite the obvious costume upgrade, he’s the same kid that had watched the Prowler die, watched  _ Aaron  _ die. 

But he tries not to think about it too much. He doesn’t want to think about it. He just wants to do his job, keep the kid as safe as possible, and spend more time with his son. But despite Spider-Man’s recent good mood, it doesn’t last. He seems more on edge lately, getting lost in his own head, and getting nervous when he stops to talk with Jefferson. It’s a far cry from their occasional friendly chats. It’s almost like he wants to say something, but he’s afraid of the reaction he’ll receive. He’s dealt with Miles’s typical teenage secrecy enough to know the signs.

“Officer Davis? Can I talk to you about something?” The kid has impeccable timing, always showing up when someone is thinking about him. It’s a little frightening to be honest.

“Of course you can. What’s eating at you kid?”

“The Prowler. Aaron Davis. You knew him right?” He phrases it like a question, but it’s clear he already knows the answer.

“He was my brother. Why?”

“I’m sorry for your loss. I was there when he…” Spider-Man pauses, voice choked like he’s holding back tears. It breaks Jefferson’s heart. “It was my fault.”

It would be so easy to hate him, to blame Spider-Man for Aaron’s death, and to leave the APB active even after the super collider. But  _ somehow.  _ Somehow the kid had wormed his way into Davis’s heart, and there’s very little he wouldn’t do to protect him.

“Hey,” He says softly, resting a hand on the kid’s shoulder.  _ He’s so small.  _ “What do you mean it was your fault, kid?”

“He was supposed to kill me, in Queens, but he hesitated. Kingpin shot him for it. He died in my arms in that alley.”

“That’s not your fault, kid. It’s not. Aaron made a lot of choices in his life, not all of them the right ones. He got involved with bad people, and that’s what got him killed, not you. You can’t blame yourself for something like that, Spidey. You’re too young to have something that terrible on your conscience.”

Spider-Man sniffles under the mask.

“This has been bugging you for a while, hasn’t it?”

He nods.  _ God,  _ he really is just a scared kid under all that spandex and superstrength.

“You’re a good kid, Spidey. Sometimes bad things just happen, and not always to bad people. You can’t let it pull you down. Got it?”

Spidey nods again, posture relaxing like some physical weight had been lifted from them.

“Good. Now skedaddle, kid. I’ve got things to do.”

~*~

_ Ten-four. We have reports of suspects fleeing a robbery at Trust Us Bank on 30th Avenue. Suspects described as three white males dressed in black driving a stolen school bus. Last seen on 17th Street. Please advise, suspects are to be considered armed and dangerous. Over. _

Davis heaves a sigh and shifts his cruiser into gear, just another day in New York City. The sirens on his roof scream to life. “Ten-Four, this is Officer Davis. I am en route. Over.”

He isn’t the last one on scene, but the PDNY has already built a blockade of concrete barricades and road spikes. The atmosphere is tense, every officer nervously checking their magazines and vests. New York never slows.

_ Vehicle inbound and driving recklessly. Be advised, Spider-Man inbound and attempting to- _

Jefferson doesn’t really need the update because he can  _ see it.  _ The bus barrels into view, going surprisingly fast for a school bus, while the small form of Spider-Man tries to keep up, trying unsuccessfully to stop, or even just slow them down.

When the driver spots the blockade, he grins, not faltering, and somehow accelerating even more. Spider-Man adjusts, no longer attempting to stop the bus from behind, but swinging ahead of it. Just a block from the police barricade he plants his feet on the asphalt and shoots a dozen or more webs to either side.

Too late, Davis realizes what he’s planning. As the bus speeds toward him, Spider-Man tenses every muscle in his body. He’s going to let himself get hit by the bus, to keep it from injuring the police. The kid is a self-sacrificial genius. Parker had done the same thing with a train nearly a decade ago.

Davis takes an aborted step towards him. There’s nothing he can do. The kid is too far away and the bus is too close. All he can do is watch as the bus slams into Spider-Man’s back, and pray that the cracking sounds he hears are from the bus, or that he is imagining them. 

The bus skids to a stop just feet from the barricade. There’s a distinct Spidey-shaped dent in the hood, completely crumpled. It’s a testament to just how fast the bus was going, and how strong Spider-Man really is. He stumbles, turning invisible as the attempted robbers disembark, brandishing an assortment of firearms. Thankfully, they think better of it when they see the crowd of police officers.

When everything is settled and contained, Spider-Man reappears, holding himself awkwardly to ease obvious pain.

“Everyone alright, Officer?”

“All thanks to you, Spider-Man. You hurt?”

“Nah, I’m alr-”

Davis interrupts his dismissal. “That was a rhetorical question, kid. How bad is it. You got hit by a bus, don’t sugar coat it.”

“I promise nothing’s broken. I’ll just be really sore for the next week, on top of the bruising. I heal quick. No sugar coating.”

Davis looks at the kid for a moment, skeptical, but nods. “Alright, fine. C’mon. I’ll give you a lift home.”

“I’ll have to pass on that, sir. Secret identity and all that. Plus I don’t live that far from here.”

“You’re gonna swing with those injuries? I don’t think so. Just get in and I’ll drop you at your block. Promise I’m not gonna follow you back.”

Spider-Man sighs and slides into the back of the cruiser. He really is gonna give Davis a heart attack one of these days.

~*~

Rio likes to tease Jefferson for being a bit dense sometimes, and she’s right. There’s a reason he’s not a lawyer, or a teacher, or a nurse like her. He’s smart as anyone, just not in the same ways. But this? This really takes the cake.

All the pieces were right in front of him, just waiting to be put together, and he missed it. Were it not for one moment, one accident, he may never have known that Spider-Man is… 

But then Doc Ock dumps Spider-Man into the Hudson, an attempt to buy time to escape, and practically water boards the kid with that mask. Davis isn’t supposed to be there, but he is, so he watches as Spider-Man flings himself ashore and tears off the mask so he can  _ breathe.  _

Davis must make some sort of noise because Spider-Man whips his head around to look, and Davis sees him. He makes eye contact not with Spider-Man, but with his  _ son. _

“Miles?” Thank god the docks are borderline decrepit. 

He tugs the mask back on, still trying to catch his breath. “I promise we’ll talk about this later. I’m so sorry, but there’s currently a super villain tearing Harlem apart.” 

And then Spider-Man,  _ Miles,  _ is gone, flying into the darkness after the retreating form of Olivia Octavius. He feels useless just going home, but what else is there for him to do? He’s nothing against someone like Octavius, he’s just human. But his son is Spider-Man.

So Davis goes home.

Fortunately or not, Rio got stuck with the graveyard shift at the ER and wouldn’t be home until late morning. She’s always so good at knowing what he needs to hear, but he’s not sure how he’d begin to explain any of this.

He waits for a long time at the dining room table, staring idly at his cup of coffee as it goes cold without ever drinking it. He waits for so long that eventually he falls asleep right there, face pressed against the wood.

He wakes again sometime past 2am because a blanket is being draped over his shoulders. Miles freezes, still in his suit, sans mask, and dripping wet. Octavius must have given him another toss into the river, otherwise he would be mostly dry from swinging.

“Heya pops.” He says, rubbing his neck the same way Davis does when he’s nervous.

God, he really is an idiot, isn’t he? His son is swinging around the city every day, putting himself in harm's way, and Davis had  _ no idea.  _ This kid will be the death of him someday. He tries to find something to say, but words fail him. So he does the only thing he can think of and wraps his kid in a tight hug, water seeping into his clothes.

“I really am dense, aren’t I?”

Miles laughs, hugging back just as fiercely. “Only a little… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

All the little coincidences are clicking into place. Spider-Man living on the same block as Visions Academy, the Air Jordans he wore over the suit, the hug after the super collider, the stickers he left everywhere, that weird growth spurt Miles had out of nowhere. Everything just  _ clicks  _ and-

“I let you get hit by a  _ bus!  _ Oh my god, I’m a terrible dad!” He says stupidly, starting to pace the length of the kitchen. 

“C’mon dad, you didn’t know. You’re not-”

“And Kingpin! I watched you get shot at! Multiple times! I-”

“Dad!” Miles shouts, finally interrupting his panicked rant. “I didn’t want you to know. You can’t do that to yourself. You’re a great dad, and this is all  _ very  _ out of pocket to be honest.”

“Good grief, Miles. What were you thinking?”

“With great power comes great responsibility?” He shrugs, the brat.

“Does your mom know?” If Rio knows and he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t live that down until the day he dies and then some.

“She might be suspicious of all the baby powder containers in the garbage.”

Jefferson groans and throws his hands up, and Miles rushes to amend.

“I’m really sorry that I kept it a secret. Everything happened so quickly and I knew you’d get all protective, and you really didn’t like the old Spider-Man. And Mrs. Parker gets put in danger all the time now that people know she was related to him. I didn’t want that for you and mom. Please don’t make me stop!” He says it all in one breath and has to pause at the end just to breathe.

“‘Make you…?’ Miles I am  _ so  _ proud of you. Not the lying of course, but what you’re doing out there is incredible. I wish I had realized how important it was while Parker was still alive. But Spider-Man or not, you are my son and I will always be worried about you. It’s part of being a dad.”

“Even when I’m fighting crime in spandex?” Miles adds.

“ _ Especially  _ when you’re fighting crime in spandex.”

“But I’m still grounded aren’t I?”

“Without a doubt. And you have to explain all this to your mother.”

Miles groans. “Yeah, that’s fair.” he yawns. “I’m beat… and wet.” He pouts a bit as he picks at the front of his suit. 

“Yeah, and you stink, bud.” Davis adds. “Take a shower and hit the sack. We can talk more in the morning.

Miles nods and yawns again as he heads down the hall.

“And Miles?”

“Yeah dad?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed this. I really miss writing for Spider-Verse, and I put my current Pazdin fic on hold just to write this.
> 
> Kudos and Comments make my world go round, so if you liked this, maybe drop one??
> 
> Peace!


End file.
